


Up in Flames

by maecerlyn



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Blood, Broken Bones, Fire, Pain, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 07:48:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11271195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maecerlyn/pseuds/maecerlyn
Summary: Jake was not prepared for his party to, quite literally, go up in flames.





	Up in Flames

_This has to be the biggest one yet._

Jake maneuvered around the people that were tightly-packed into his house. He couldn't remember a Halloween party-no, _any_ of his parties-ever being so crowded. This was definitely a party of record-breaking proportions. It was one for the books.

He smiled and returned claps on the back and fist bumps with many of his classmates. No one looked too wasted, which was good. He would have a lot of cleaning to do tomorrow. Or would it be later today? Checking the clock on the wall and seeing how it read 1:27, he guessed it would be later today. He would have a lot of cleaning to do later today, and he definitely did not want vomit to be something else he had to mop up.

Almost everyone else, in their fun or scary costumes, seemed to be having a great time, but Jake himself couldn't get a hold on exactly what he was feeling. Christine had broken up with him, then he caught Jeremy and Chloe having "sex" in his parents' bed, and then he and Chloe migrated to his own room to actually have sex in his own bed. That had only been about ten minutes ago. Considering Chloe left the party a few minutes after they had finished, Jake assumed she and him weren't going to get back together.

Oh well. Maybe he could use a little break from the dating game.

He stumbled into the kitchen and grabbed a Solo cup, filling it up with water before downing it in one gulp. He was still a little buzzed at this point, but his thinking was mostly clear. The kitchen, despite being right next to the living room where the sound was blaring and the lights were flashing, had a totally different atmosphere. A spread of alcohol decorated the island, and the only other occupants were two girls, Stephanie and Katrina, talking at a table, dressed liked a vampire and Barbie, respectively. He smiled and nodded to them as he refilled his cup, sipping slower this time.

"Are you girls having fu-?"

"Jake!"

The boy's head snapped to his left. Jenna was leaning against the wall opposite of the bathroom, arms crossed over her chest in her comical clown costume.

"Hey Jenna," he greeted. "What's up? Enjoying yourself?"

"Someone's taking forever in the bathroom," she complained as she rolled her eyes. "And I'm so thirsty."

"Want a drink?" Jake offered.

"There's no way in hell I'm getting off of this line!"

He wanted to point out it was highly unlikely that someone was going to steal her spot. However, instead of arguing with the drunken girl, he snatched a bottle of Malibu Rum from the makeshift bar. He gave it a little shake before tossing it the short distance to her. "Finish it off, there's not that much left."

Jenna caught it and grinned before cracking it back open and taking a swig. "Thanks Jake! Oh my God, is this Whitney?! I love Whitney!"

Jake smirked at the way she held the neck of the bottle and held the opening to her mouth, using it as a microphone as she sang along to the new song. He went back into the living room, in the midst of it all, and took a seat next to the arm of his couch. He pulled off his Prince wig and threw it onto the glass coffee table before taking another sip of his water. The teenager took some time to simply observe. Everyone assumed that being the host meant grinding the most and getting the drunkest out of everyone. That wasn't necessarily true.

He picked up on tidbits of conversations as he slowly sipped his water, foot tapping lightly to Whitney. Rich seemed to be a main focal point. Apparently he had gone wild, running up to anyone and everyone and asking for Mountain Dew Red. They had no idea where he was now.

_He really shouldn't drink so much for such a small guy._

Jake leaned forward to set his cup beside his wig when the weight in the couch shifted. He looked to his left and saw the unmistakable sexy dog costume that Brooke was wearing at the far end of the couch. He glanced at the door behind her, noticing how Christine left. Jeremy also walked out seconds after. He rolled his eyes before paying attention again to the costumed girl.

"Hey Brooke!" He had to raise his voice to be heard over the music. "How are- hey, are you all right?!"

He shifted to the middle cushion so he was closer to her. The blonde had her face buried into her hands and her body was shaking. Jake placed a strong hand on her shoulder, causing her to flinch and look up. Brooke's eyes were bright red, and he knew for a fact she didn't smoke pot tonight.

"I hate Chloe! I hate Jeremy!" She pounded on the cushions with her fists. "I hate them!" Her voice cracked and she started sobbing again. Jake opened his mouth, ready to respond, but instead she got to her feet and wiped at her eyes. "Thanks for the party Jake. The first few hours were pretty fun." Brooke gave him a shaky smile before running for the front door.

"Damn," Jake muttered. What was up with everyone tonight- correction, this morning?

Maybe someone spiked the alcohol with... something even stronger than alcohol. Or there was a bad batch of some drug being circulated. The sixteen-year-old only shook his head before taking a deep breath and leaning back into the couch.

The loud music was oddly comforting to him. He felt the vibrations tingle his feet through the floor. He stayed like that for a good five minutes. Then he heard it.

Jake straightened up and narrowed his eyes. He had listened to Mask Off as much as the next guy, and he didn't remember those shrill, beeping undertones.

He took a deep breath before coughing. Something in the air was off. It almost smelled like something was... burning.

" _FIRE!_ "

Jake gasped as the music was suddenly cut. The ringing of the fire alarm was now unmistakeable as people started sprinting for the front door. He darted out of his seat and looked around wildly.

His breathing hitched as he noticed flames shooting down from the ceiling, licking at the walls and the furniture and literally _everything_. It must have started upstairs, maybe something happened with the dryer or the insulation or _wait why was he thinking about this now?!_

Dark blue eyes frantically scanned the people that didn't move, that probably couldn't move, petrified with fear. He inhaled deeply before commanding, "Everyone out! Now!"

More people started running for the door. He just made out Jenna, who somehow looked incredibly sober, dragging Michael Mell ( _who he_ knew _he didn't invite but hey did he care about that now???_ ) behind her.

Jake stood in the middle of it all. His house was burning down his house was burning down his house was-

 _Snap out of it!_ He swallowed deeply before coughing harshly, smoke seeping into his system. _Gotta make sure everyone's out. Fast! Go Dillinger, go!_

Jake ran into the kitchen, eyes instinctively going to where Stephanie and Katrina had been before. The entire room was empty. He sped down the hall, tugging at the basement door's knob to make sure it was still locked before slamming the bathroom door open. The medicine cabinet had its contents emptied onto the floor. He didn't give a fuck. After pulling back the curtain and seeing no one in the tub, he pivoted and moved away just as part of the ceiling came down.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Out of the bathroom, back down the hall, into the kitchen, and then back in the living room. He was panting and hacking up smoke at the same time.

Jake screamed as flames shot down from the ceiling yet again. He backed up and fell over the coffee table, feeling the glass shatter beneath him as he could only gasp in response. Tears pricked at his eyes. He planted his hands down-right into the glass-and pushed himself back to his feet. His legs were shaking. His eyes went to the staircase. Flames danced along the wall next to it.

_Someone could be up there._

He ran to the base and cupped his hands around his mouth before calling out. "Hello?! Is anyone still up there?! Hello!!!" His voice was rough and he doubled over coughing again. The second he straightened back up he had to jump to avoid another piece of the ceiling as it came down. Within the second the debris smacked into the ground, Jake had a thought.

 _Someone could still be up there they could be unconscious or trapped or even dead what if someone actually died_ holy fucking shit _what if someone's dead? But what if someone's not dead I have to I have to I_ have to go up there _get up there Dillinger!_

Jake's pure athleticism enabled him to jump over the debris and onto the third step right before it shot up in flames behind him. He scrambled on knees and hands to get to the top, where the smoke was thick. His eyes poured and he felt nauseous. He pushed open his parents' room's door ( _empty!_ ) and the bathroom door ( _empty!_ ) and was headed for his own bedroom door when he tripped over something (someone, maybe?) in the middle of the hallway. He felt some glass shards dig deeper into his skin as he collided with the floor. His hands were slick with blood. He pulled himself into a sitting poison before crawling over to the person. He let out a choked sob.

" _RICH!_ "

Jake staggered to his feet and threw open the linen closet, grabbing a towel before slamming it into Rich's body over and over, putting out the flames that still bit at his skin and tore at his clothes. Rich was covered in burn and _oh my god those look so bad_. He never knew what burning flesh smelled like until now. Was he even alive? Jake threw the towel to the side and knelt down, head looking to the side and eyes widening as he saw the flames coming closer to them. He placed his fingers to Rich's neck and started dragging him away at the same time. Was that a pulse? Yes that had to be a pulse it _had to be a pulse_.

In one fluid motion Jake swept Rich over his shoulders. His weight would probably be nothing for him in any other circumstance, but Jake's body was aching and throbbing and seething and burning. Breathing hurt. He felt like he was inhaling razor blades. The fire was moving towards him, grabbing for his ankles. It beat him to every doorway. It trapped him at the top of the stairs. Rich was getting heavier.

Fire still stood at the bottom of the staircase, and it inched closer to him from behind as well, reaching for the back of his shirt.

_I can go over the side! The front door still might be unblocked and then I can get out with him from there it's not that big of a drop I'll still be able to carry him._

Jake took a nanosecond to prepare before stepping down the first two stairs. He readjusted Rich, preparing to let him down over the side of the railing as far as possible before having to drop him the remaining two feet or so.

Only he didn't get the chance.

Jake felt the floor getting sucked out from underneath his feet. He screamed as the staircase gave way underneath him. Holding Rich as tightly as possible to his chest, the entire thing collapsed.

The next thing he knew, he was in his basement. He let out another shriek as debris fell on top of him- his legs, specifically. Rich ended up a few feet away. His burns were sizzling.

Jake's breathing picked up as he tried to pull himself out from under the ceiling-staircase?-well, whatever the fuck it was.

_Dillinger, you have not worked out every day for your whole fucking life only to not be strong enough when you are literally about to fucking die._

But he couldn't. He couldn't pull himself out, he was pinned. He gasped as he pushed himself up into a sitting position, trying to shove the debris off instead. He felt his legs searing in pain. Nothing gave way, it wouldn't move, _he was going to die._

He collapsed onto his back and let out a groan; his body felt like it was being torn open from the inside.

This is how he goes out.

Maybe it would be better. He didn't really have much to live for. Sure, he was popular. But did anyone love him? His parents didn't. His only real close friend was Rich and Rich wasn't even alive at this point, there was no way he could still be-

A painful wheeze had Jake twisting his torso. His eyes widened ever so slightly as he noticed it.

The shallow and rapid but present and clear rise and fall of Rich's chest.

His body went numb.

He was getting out of this fucking hellhole, and he was bringing Rich with him.

Jake coughed as the smoke swam inside his lungs and cried as it swiped his eyes. He felt around on the floor for something, anything, that could-

He grabbed onto a pipe.

It was probably burning. He couldn't feel it.

Jake jabbed the end of it into the mass of _whatever_ that had crushed his legs and used all of his strength to press down on the other end.

It was a miracle that it budged enough for him to slide himself out.

Jake used the wall to pull himself to his feet. Something was so wrong with his legs. He wasn't really sure if he was walking or not. Looking down, he determined he, in fact, was at the moment. He was in shock. He couldn't feel them at all. He still couldn't feel anything.

Jake bent down and threw Rich over his shoulder again, jaw setting as he marched over to a slight window that peeked into his driveway. He took the pipe and smashed it, more glass slicing at his face because there was no time to adjust Rich so he could open it. After sliding the pipe along the edges to clear them, he shoved Rich out onto the driveway.

He prepared to lift himself. He braced the window frame, little glass shards nipping at his rough skin. It was so hard. It was a small opening, and he was a big guy, and he was so tired.

When Jake exhaled, it sounded like some defected accordion. He looked behind him with glazed eyes. The fire was coming. From the ground, from the ceiling, from every which way. He was running out of time.

Jake took in a deep breath before grinding his teeth together and using all of his strength to pull himself out. His arms felt dead. He felt dead. He literally felt very dead.

The word spun. His back was suddenly against the cold concrete. He began to feel it, the pain, in his torso and his arms and his back and _oh god_ in his legs. It hurt like a motherfucker. He heard sirens. He heard screaming. He heard crying.

He crawled a few feet farther away from the house, dragging Rich with him, rolled over onto his stomach, threw up, and passed out as the house came crumbling down.

Jake Dillinger fucking did it.

**Author's Note:**

> I swear I love Jake Dillinger with my heart and soul. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Follow me on tumblr @the-party-train if you'd like.


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